


Lester's Mystery Journey

by alimacbrux



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Detective AU, Layton's Mystery Journey AU, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 14:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17562623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alimacbrux/pseuds/alimacbrux
Summary: When a hand is missing from Big Ben and a woman is found dead, Detective Phil Lester is called onto the case. Joined by his assistant, Dan Howell, Phil goes through many twists and turns and tumbles as he attempts to find the culprit.





	Lester's Mystery Journey

It was a dreary day in London, the city shrouded in a thick layer of fog. The tops of buildings were just barely peeking out through the density to look at the grey sky above. Looking out the window, not even the building across was visible. The clouds settled heavily around the buildings, resting on the tops of trees like thin blankets of snow. There was a cool, biting breeze in the air, rustling leaves and fluttering dresses and coats and hair. 

Phil was walking briskly down the street, looking around frantically. 

At the end of the road, he saw a familiar figure up ahead. He gasped, calling out, “Dad! Dad, wait! Don’t go!” The man turned to look over at Phil hurrying down the street towards him. 

For a moment, they stared intently at each other. Phil called out to the man again but the man’s eyes darkened and he turned on his heel. Phil sprinted towards him but then the man disappeared into the fog again, never to be seen again. 

¿?

Phil yelped, sitting up in bed. He was breathing heavily, hair in a mess and his shirt sticking to him in a cold sweat. Phil sighed, running his hands through his damp hair and looked around his bedroom. 

It was just a dream. Nothing more. 

¿?

That morning, the weather was much more promising than his dream. It was surprisingly warm that day, the sky a pale blue colour with only a few clouds bobbing along. 

Phil slipped on his long black trench coat and plucked his top hat off the coat hanger, fixing it on top of his head as he stood in front of the mirror by the front door. He ran his fingers through his hair, fixing any loose strands before he left his flat and made his way outside. 

Phil peddled along the familiar English street, one hand holding his hat down while the other gripped tightly to the handlebar. 

He cycled across Westminster Bridge, coattail flying behind him, passing Big Ben without a second glance. He nodded in greeting at passersby, narrowly dodging a woman pushing a baby in a pram and almost letting go of his hat multiple times. He rode past a chippy shop, a barber’s shop and a cake shop with a broken sign and finally pulled to a stop in front of where he worked. 

Phil locked his bike up and made his way inside Lester Detective Agency. 

“Oh! H-hello!” 

As Phil stumbled inside, he came face to face with a fumbling brunette carrying a precarious pile of books and papers. He was dressed in a blue waistcoat, red bowtie and, much to Phil’s amusement, black skinny jeans. His whole face was flushed bright red, brown eyes wide like a doe in headlights. 

Phil brushed past the man, stepping into his office. His desk was a pitiful mess of papers and books stacked on top of each other, his typewriter set out on the desk. Behind the desk, his wall was adorned with a giant cork board with various other papers pinned to it, strings connecting the various clues from some mysteries. As soon as Phil stepped inside, the man followed him in, dropping the stack of books on the desk. 

“Who are you?” Phil asked, eyeing the attractive stranger with his tight jeans and messy curls, blinking back at him. 

“Daniel Howell at your service, sir,” the man stated, straightening his posture and jutting his chin into the air, “I’m your new assistant.” 

Phil raised a single eyebrow, sitting down behind his desk. “I don’t need an assistant,” he replied, reaching over to move the stack of things Dan dropped and putting them down next to his typewriter. 

Dan rolled his eyes. “I’ve been hired as your assistant by your father, so,” he replied somewhat sharply, straightening his bow tie. 

“Well, I suppose some help can’t hurt. Or at least some company,” Phil replied with a shrug. 

“Looking forward to it.” Dan turned on his heel and marched out of the room. “I’ll get your other paperwork, Mr. Lester,” he called over his shoulder, voice coming from the end of the hall. 

¿?

“Inspector Hastings, what a pleasant surprise,” Phil drawled, pausing his typing to look up at the man now standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and scowling. Dan, who was perched at the edge of Phil’s table, looked up from the book he was skimming. 

“There’s been a murder. In Elizabeth Tower.” 

Phil raised his eyebrows, peering over the inspector’s shoulder to exchange curious looks with Dan. In the last few weeks that Dan had been working at Lester Detective Agency, the two had grown rather close, able to read each other easily, which came in handy when they needed to communicate in silence. 

“In Elizabeth Tower?” Dan asked, dog-earing the page and tossing his copy of The Bell Jar onto the overstuffed sofa. Inspector Hastings looked back at Dan, as if surprised that he was able to speak. Dan stared at the other man, crossing his arms, jaw set and eyes darkening. 

“Yes, one of the workers in the clock tower found a woman’s body this morning after hearing news that one of the hands is missing on the clock and is no longer working.”

Phil jumped to his feet. “A thief? A murder? Now that sounds far more interesting than the case about the Tesco break in a few blocks away!” Phil exclaimed, already grabbing his coat. 

“Phil, seven people died in that robbery,” Dan deadpanned, eyeing Phil as he slipped on his coat and pulled on his top hat. Nevertheless, Dan was getting up as well. 

¿?

Elizabeth Tower was, in fact, missing one of its hands. 

People were stopped outside of the massive tower, taking pictures of the clock and its missing hand. Cars were slowing as people peered up in curiosity, bikers and pedestrians stopping on the pavement in collective confusion. 

Meanwhile, Dan and Phil were at the top of the tower with the clock gears with the rest of Scotland Yard. 

It was a pretty brutal scene. A woman in her 30s was trapped between one of the gears by one of her arms, body draped slack over the banister surrounding the clockworks. Blood was all over the gears, dripping down the metal and leaving the room with a strong metallic scent. 

Dan, decked out in a white full body jumpsuit and single use rubber gloves, turned to Phil as he inspected the gorey scene. “I wasn’t expecting it to be this harrowing,” he remarked. 

Phil shook his head, stepping back from the banister to look back at Dan. “There certainly is a lot of blood, yes.” 

Dan snorted. “I was talking more about the arm stuffed inside the gears and the fact that I’m pretty sure I can see her fucking bones, Phil.” Dan rolled his eyes, hands clutching the metal railing so that he could lean closer to the body, squinting his eyes. “Yup, definitely bone showing,” he announced, shivering violently. 

“Besides the obvious fact that her bone is showing, any thoughts, Howell?” Phil asked, pulling out a digital camera to take photos of the body from various angles. He ignored the tuts of the Scotland Yard men and woman as he brushed past them. 

“My guess is it was an inside job. How else could someone get up here without keys?” 

Phil slipped the camera inside the pocket of his own white jumpsuit, lips pursed in thought. “You might have a point there,” he replied, pulling off his rubber gloves and stuffing them inside his free pocket. “I think that’s enough searching for now,” he added, waving goodbye to the other people still taking samples of the scene and pushing Dan towards the door by the small of his back. 

¿?

The case continued well into the next few weeks. Phil periodically went back to the scene to look for more evidence, often late into the night, bringing a flashlight and magnifying glass up to the dark tower. He was losing sleep, greyish bags forming under his eyes so that he’d struggle to get through security at an airport, spending the night at the office more often than not. He looked at all the photos he took, using his magnifying glass as he hunched over his desk with a cup of double espresso coffee keeping him awake. 

No matter how often Dan told him to get some more sleep or to take a break from the case, Phil simply brushed him off saying he was fine and went back to looking through the photos and pinning them up on his corkboard, connecting evidence together using a vibrant green string of yarn. 

He was going crazy over the case and didn’t see himself stopping anytime soon. 

That is, until Dan came to the office late one evening to collect something he forgot and found Phil passed out on the floor, clutching his magnifying glass and another photograph of the woman. 

“Phil! Oh, my God!” 

Dan’s shrill, panicked voice pulled Phil back to consciousness almost immediately. Groaning, Phil peeled his eyes open, startling when he found Dan’s face very close to him as he leaned over him. So close, in fact, that his curls tickled his forehead. 

“Are you okay?” Dan asked hesitantly, sitting back on his knees and brushing a free strand of hair away from Phil’s face, his touch sending fire in its wake across Phil’s skin. “You really need to get some rest, Phil. You’re clearly overworking yourself,” Dan insisted. 

Phil tried sitting up, forehead pulsating with agony at the sudden movement. He cringed, shutting his eyes tightly and taking a deep, shaky breath. “Woah, careful there,” Dan said, helping to keep Phil seating by placing a hand between his shoulder blades. “Come on, let’s get you standing and then I’ll help get you home.” 

“You-you don’t have to do that, Dan, r-really. Thank you, b-but I think I can handle it,” Phil insisted, stuttering as his whole body trembled. 

Dan managed to get Phil standing and helped him sit down on the couch with a heavy sigh. Phil instantly reached for a red throw pillow, clutching it to his chest. “Let me get you some water,” Dan whispered, voice steady and sure. Phil nodded stiffly, watching Dan disappear from the room for a moment. 

Taking advantage of Dan’s absence, Phil leaned over to pick up the magnifying glass and picture again. Vision swimming, Phil barely managed to see the image, his sight coming in and out of focus like a camera. 

“Oh for fucks sake.” Phil dropped the items on the table instantly, head shooting up to see Dan walking in with a glass of water. “Phil, mate, you gotta stop. Finish your water and I’m taking you home.” 

As Phil took the cup from Dan, he nearly dropped it, hands still shaking. Dan plopped down beside Phil, his leg pressed against Phil’s, watching intensely. Phil finished his water in only a few gulps before leaning over to put the glass back on the table and then settled back beside Dan. 

“You okay?” Dan asked, resting a hand on Phil’s knee. The way he was looking at Phil was so intense Phil’s mouth turned into a desert and he had to swallow a lump at the back of his throat. Phil bobbed his head up and down, instinctively covering Dan’s hand with his. “We should probably get going, then,” he whispered, so close his breath sent goosebumps up Phil’s neck and arms. 

“Huh?” 

Dan smiled and breathed, “To your house. I was going to walk you home.” 

“Oh. Right. Okay.” 

Dan pulled his hand away and got to his feet, holding out his hand to help pull Phil to a standing position. He helped him to get on his coat and hat and led Phil out of Lester Detective Agency, arm around his waist. Barely able to see ahead of him, Phil sighed and let his head drop sideways onto Dan’s shoulder. 

“Come on, Phil. Let's get you home.” 

¿?

After a few days break(by Dan’s insistence), Phil was back on the case. 

Currently, Phil was scribbling down notes, his feather quill making scratching noises as it danced across the page at a furious pace, since he had found a potential lead. Dan was lounging out on the couch with his feet up on the arm rest, holding up two of the photos Phil took. The radio in the corner of the room was playing a Frank Sinatra tune which Dan was humming along to as he half-heartedly inspected the images. 

“Do you think we’ll ever catch them?” Dan asked suddenly as Frank Sinatra stopped playing and an advert for detergent came on instead. 

Phil paused his frantic note taking and stared over at Dan. “What do you mean?” he asked, dipping his pen into the inkwell. 

Dan sat up properly, pulling his legs into a crossed position and shrugged. “I dunno. It’s just, it’s been almost three months now,” Dan pointed out, fumbling with the corner of one of the photographs. 

“Well of course we—” 

Phil was interrupted by a sharp tapping at the front door of the agency. Phil looked down at his pocket watch, which showed that it was almost nine o’clock. “Why on earth is someone here now? It’s nine,” Phil said, getting to his feet and hurrying to the front door. Dan padded after him, standing at the end of the hall as Phil opened the front door. 

There was no one there. 

Instead, a note was attached to the door. Phil looked around for anyone nearby and plucked the sheet of parchment off the door and read the messy blue handwriting: _Meet me at Elizabeth’s Tower and you’ll get what you want. RK ___

__“Dan, I’m going to Elizabeth’s Tower!” Phil exclaimed, pushing past Dan into his office again and grabbing the keys to the tower off his desktop._ _

__“Wha—?”_ _

__Phil shook his head. “I don’t have time to explain! I have to go!” Phil stuffed the paper into his pocket and grabbed his bike off its stand, vaulting his leg over the bike. “Wish me luck!” And then he was taking off down the streets of London._ _

__Phil’s legs were aching as he peddled furiously, the freezing November air nipping at his skin and disturbing his jet black hair from its sleek quiff. The few people still wandering the streets jumped out of the way of his violent cycling, shouting after him as he disappeared around the corners._ _

__Panting, Phil finally made it to the tower in only ten minutes. He was about to pull the keys out of the back pocket of his jeans when he noticed that the door to the tower was already unlocked. Eyebrows knitted, Phil pulled the door open the rest of the way and looked around in the low lighting. There was no one to be seen._ _

__To the top, then._ _

__¿?_ _

__Phil reached the top of the stairs a few minutes later and immediately felt an odd chill in the air. He shivered, pulling the sleeves of his white button down lower over his hands. Phil squinted around, circling the gears of the clock in search for the person that gave him the note._ _

__And then the door he entered through slammed shut._ _

__Phil breathed in sharply, looking to the door._ _

__Standing by the door was none other than the bell tower inspector, Ryan Kiers. He was a wide set man with bushy brows and a bald head, dressed in a pair of khakis and a blue collared shirt._ _

__“Well well well, Detective Lester. Didn’t see this coming, did you?” Ryan drawled in a thick Londoner accent._ _

__Phil shrugged, trying to cover up his nervousness around being trapped up in a bell tower, the incessant ticking noise rattling his bones. “I suspected it, perhaps,” Phil replied, crossing his arms, “You signed the note with your initials. No one else could have gotten up here without keys, except for a few select police officers._ _

__“In fact, just this evening, I discovered a connection to the victim, Miss Lacey Florence. She was your girlfriend several years ago, but she left you because you didn't have enough money for her liking,” Phil explained._ _

__Phil felt a draft itching at his skin, sending goosebumps up his neck. “Of course you figured it out,” Ryan replied, taking a large step closer to Phil. Phil inched backwards, closer to the windows. “And now you're here for the hand?”_ _

__“That is what I want from you, yes.”_ _

__Ryan stepped closer again. Phil stepped back again. It was a tango that Ryan was leading. Phil seriously wished he had brought some sort of defense. Or at least a coat, the draft getting colder and colder as the seconds ticked past with the clock._ _

__“That’s a pity. Because I’ve already had it melted down for scrap.” Phil blinked rapidly, stepping back again._ _

__“Then why did you bring me here?” Phil asked. Out of the corner of his eye, Phil finally noticed the source of the odd breeze; there was a window pane missing right above the face that was missing a hand. Right next to where Phil was standing with his back to the wall._ _

__Before Phil could say anything else, he was unceremoniously shoved right out the window. Phil yelped as he began to slide down the slanted sides of the tower. Blindly, Phil grabbed onto the sides, feeling his hands getting a hold of intricate stone carvings under the window panes._ _

__Ryan’s head appeared poking out of the window, looking somewhat taken aback that Phil hadn’t managed to fall. Phil’s fingers were paling from the grip, grunting as he tried not to shift and end up splattered across the pavement almost a hundred metres below. Ryan leaned over the side of the window and began slapping at Phil’s hands, trying to get him to lose his grip._ _

__“Get off! Stop it! Stop!” Phil babbled, tightening his grip even more. Phil looked down and found some of the carvings were deep enough for him to use as foot holds, digging is toes into the stone. Putting as much weight as he could on his feet, Phil carefully removed one of his hands from holding onto the sides and reached up, grabbing onto Ryan’s wrist._ _

__Ryan stopped slapping him, eyes as large as saucers as Phil screwed his eyes shut and tugged on his arm. With a gasp of air and a few swears, Ryan tumbled head first of of the window. Phil squeaked, trying to get out of the way in time, only to find himself tumbling down as well._ _

__Phil screamed, frantically reaching for the hand of the clock tower. The cool metal dug into his hands and Phil frantically looked around for some way to get out of this. Down below, he could just about see Ryan’s body at the bottom of the tower, a pool of crimson surrounding him. Not to mention the vertigo-inducing height, Phil felt his stomach turning, struggling to hold on tighter._ _

__With an enormous, booming tick, Phil felt his entire body being shifted slightly downwards as the giant hand moved. A scream ripped out of his mouth, as Phil felt himself getting closer to slipping off the hand. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” he blubbered, tears welling in his eyes. The metal was beginning to dig into his hands, breaking the skin. “Somebody help me!” Phil whimpered pointlessly, knowing that nobody could hear him from all the way up there._ _

__What felt like both two seconds later and ten hours later, the hand shifted again. Phil felt himself sliding yet again, the hand almost pointing at the giant number 2._ _

__Down below, Phil noticed a commotion going on at the pavement. A crowd was beginning to form around Ryan’s dead body and a few people were clearly pointing up at Phil. As more and more people began to appear, Phil felt a tiny flicker of hope lighting inside, something small and fragile._ _

__Maybe someone could get him down from there._ _

__Distantly, Phil heard the familiar sound of sirens getting closer. But then he moved down yet again. It was only a minute until the hand would be pointing down at number 2 and Phil would surely slide off the hand and tumble down to his death, landing right next to Ryan._ _

__“Come on, come on!” Phil shouted to no one in particular._ _

__Finally, an ambulance and fire truck pulled up and a group of men came charging out of the back of each. They burst through the front door, disappearing into the tower. Phil prayed to every deity, hoping with all of his energy that they would make it in time._ _

__Tick. The hand moved to number two. Phil felt the metal slicing into his fingers as he grappled for safety, trying to pull himself higher up the hand._ _

__On and on, the minutes moved by and soon Phil was hugging the hand with his legs. It was 29 minutes past and Phil was just about ready to let go, to give up and let himself plummet off the tower. He was in the midst of accepting his death and feeling his fingers slowly sliding down the brutal copper when he felt something soft hitting his back. Phil looked up and nearly cried with relief when he saw a sturdy rope hanging down from above._ _

__One of the fire fighters appeared out of the window, smoothly making her way down the rope with thick gloves and some kind of harness attaching her to it. Phil continued to slide down until he felt the woman’s strong arms grabbing him from under his armpits and she attached him to her belt using some kind of hook._ _

__“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” she said, looking up at the window, “Pull me up, Ahmed!” Eyes screwed shut, Phil gripped onto her desperately as he felt them being pulled up and up and up and then he felt himself being pulled back into the window._ _

__Phil landed in a heap on the floor and immediately felt all the stress he had been holding onto overwhelming him in a rush like a bucket of freezing cold water and he burst into tears. He felt someone rubbing his back and heard someone saying something to him from the other end of the world, voice muffled and barely there._ _

__In a blur, Phil found himself being brought all the way down the stairs and back out into the biting air. Everything around him swirled into one big blob of colours, all sounds blending into a singular buzzing sound in his ears._ _

__“Phil! Phil, oh my God!”_ _

__But one sound seemed to break through all the rest of the faint whirring in his ears and only now did Phil realise he was sitting on the pavement with bandages wrapped around his hands. When he looked up, the familiar brunette came into focus._ _

__“D-Dan,” Phil breathed weakly, as Dan kneeled down in front of him on the street. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy and his cheeks were wet and blotchy._ _

__“Phil, you’re alive! Oh my God, you’re okay!” Dan blurted, hands fidgeting in his lap like he was unsure of what to do with them._ _

__And then Dan was being swallowed whole by Phil’s arms. Phil tugged Dan into a hug, gripping onto the back of his coat and breathing in heavily. Just the familiar scent of Dan brought Phil back to the top of the clock, back to when he could have lost this. Could have lost Dan._ _

__Phil hadn’t even realised he was crying, soaking Dan’s coat as he buried his face in his shoulder, shaking all over. “Shh, shh, I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re not in the tower anymore,” Dan cooed, holding Phil just as tightly._ _

__¿?_ _

__“You don’t have to walk me home again, Dan. I can get home on my own,” Phil insisted a few hours later while the two of them stood in the lobby of the hospital. Phil had to be taken to hospital to get stitches on his hands and to check for any damage from crashing out of a window, but now he was being released._ _

__Dan wanted to take Phil home and make sure he was safe, but Phil was insistent on getting home on his own. He didn’t want Dan to have to worry about him._ _

__Dan rolled his eyes, placing his hands firmly on Phil’s shoulders. “Phil, you nearly fell out of a fucking bell tower tonight, the least I can do for you is get you home safely,” Dan stated, eyes dark and ernest. Phil was violently reminded about that fateful night when he passed out from exhaustion._ _

__But still, Phil persisted. “Dan, I don’t need you to take care of me. I don’t want you to worry about me—” he began._ _

__“No, Phil. Absolutely not. You cannot do this to me,” Dan snapped, startling Phil into silence, “You just fucking left tonight without any real fucking explanation. I was worried sick, Phil, I had no idea what was going on. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. When I found out you had fallen out, the first thing I saw was a body and a puddle of blood and I just about had a panic attack. I thought you were dead, Phil. I thought that was you._ _

__“So no, you can’t just push me away. I thought I lost you back there and—” Dan’s rant was interrupted by a wet sob, “I love you, Phil. I couldn’t ever forgive myself if I lost you.”_ _

__A broad grin melted across Phil’s face and he grabbed Dan by the lapels of his coat and yanked him into a kiss. Dan squeaked in surprise but easily moulded into it, hands coming up to cup Phil’s cheeks. It was wet and messy, tears still staining Dan’s cheeks, teeth and tongues tripping over each other. Upon touching, Phil was struck by lightning, his entire body going warm from head to toe. Dan couldn’t seem to keep his hands still, moving them from his cheeks to his shoulders to his back to his chest to his arms, searching fervently over the bumps and curves of Phil’s body._ _

__“It’s about damn time,” a sandpaper-rough voice said from behind them. The two men pulled apart to find Inspector Hastings standing in front of them, arms crossed and an unfamiliar yet unmistakable smile on his face. It was awkward and out of character but definitely a smile. “I thought you two’d never do it.”_ _

__Dan and Phil exchanged looks and instantly burst into fits of giggles._ _

__“Me neither,” they said at the same time._ _

__¿?_ _

__Dan’s duvet was soft and warm, weighing heavily on Phil as Dan tucked him in. Somehow, instead of going back to Phil’s house, they instead went to Dan’s house after leaving the hospital._ _

__Dan, dressed only in a pair of pants, walked around the other side of the bed and climbed in beside Phil, leaving a few inches between them. Phil rolled over onto his side, facing Dan. Dan reached over to turn the lights off, plunging them both into darkness._ _

__Phil's voice was soft and hesitant as he asked, “C-can we cuddle?”_ _

__Dan chuckled. “Of course. Get over here,” Dan replied. Phil rolled over again, pressing his back against Dan who curled around him, pulling him flush against his chest. Phil took a deep breath, still shaken from the events earlier in the night._ _

__For the third time that night, Phil felt his emotions overpowering him completely and suddenly, tears were rolling down his cheeks rapidly. Images of tumbling out windows and the great height and the body hundreds of feet below and hanging by his hands flashed in his mind, attacking him from every angle. “Shh, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Phil. I’m here,” Dan whispered, holding him even closer and kissing then back of his head._ _

__Even in the midst of the chaos of that night, Phil found peace. Down the endless, terrifying black tunnel, there was a glimpse of light._ _

__At the end of the night, there was Dan._ _


End file.
